


Lucifer's journal

by vanishing_apples



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_apples/pseuds/vanishing_apples
Summary: Lucifer kept a journal from the point of Sandalphon's birth till his own death.





	1. The order

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: A self-indulgent attempt at Lucifer's character study that threatens to drag on way longer than it should. Let's pretend that I'm 200% familiar with the lore of this game :-]

I received official orders from Lucilius to create a new primarch by myself. We have entertained the idea of me starting a project of my own before, instead of merely serving as his research assistant as usual. And yet, who would have thought he would really go through with it.

I can’t say for sure what Lucilius expects of me from these instructions. A long list of them, to be exact. For once, my task is not to realise numbers and theoretical models on blueprints but to decode semantics. Too many variables, not nearly enough constants to work with. Even more puzzling is the lack of implications to be found within these instructions as to the function of this new being. A new primarch with no element, realm nor evolutionary process to govern. All I have to work with, in Lucilius’ words, is my imagination. The only problem is imagination itself is one concept that my race has not even begun to understand. Alas, I must reserve contemplation over this most tricky attribute - function - for another time and proceed where I can since, as is the case with all tasks assigned to me, this one comes with a deadline. Perhaps physical appearance would make a good starting point.


	2. Design

I thought long and hard about the new primarch’s design over the last week. Unfortunately, Lucilius did not seem particularly impressed with my progress so far. He urged me to be a bit more creative in my work. Sometimes it is saddening to see him take the gift of creativity for granted so, from my point of view as one who was born without such blessing that is. After all, I was optimised to observe and record, not create. Still, I can’t help but think it amusing that such words would come from him of all people, given the fact that he made me the spitting image of himself.

With what little resource I have in terms of creativity, perhaps it is fair to give the new primarch an appearance that contrasts my own. At the very least, it would make him a physically unique being. As my hair is silver in colour, his will be dark with a subtle orange glow - the shade of the evening sky lit with the softest blush of twilight. If mine grows straight and lies flat, his can be wavy and wind-swept. Since my eyes are the colour of azure morning skies, his will be of crimson dusks. A face shape shorter than my own; eye shape more slanted, similar to those of the feline species - the magnificent, elegant creatures. A frame more delicately youthful, paler skin, shorter height. We have enough athletically framed male primarchs in our midst, so this would make for potentially interesting experimentation.

I am still unable to imagine the design of his wings due to my lack of knowledge in regards to his function. A primarch’s wings should, after all, reflect their role. For now, let’s make them the same colour of his hair as a temporary placeholder. In time, I hope I will have the opportunity to give him the pair of wings that he truly deserves.


	3. A semblance of humanity

Not much progress on the new primarch, and still no further instructions from Lucilius as to his purpose. With the current pace of progress, the least I can do is to finally think of a name for him. If he has yet to be given an official role, perhaps simple companionship can serve as his duty for now - one I may selfishly assign and to which I can’t see Lucilius being terribly object. “Sandalphon” has a nice ring to it, and is also befitting of a faithful companion. 

Nonetheless, our current technology has yet to reach a point where it is possible to dictate a primarch’s future disposition. A great enigma of creation is how one’s personality always turns out to be greater than the sum of their parts, so much greater than descriptions scrawled on blueprints. Working within these limitations, I would like Sandalphon to have a design that best facilitates his understanding of humans - a fascinating race brimming with potential and deserving of endless study. He might eventually surpass all of us senior primarchs in this aspect one day, acquiring knowledge that stems not from mere observation but genuine empathy. Programming humanity… Such a feat will undoubtedly require mobilisation of all my documentation and research - everything I have ever learned about the race in the span of millennia. Despite the awareness of my own lacking understanding; despite our limited facilities; despite the possibility that what I create may turn out to be a mere caricature of humanity, less of the real thing and more a reflection of my own ideals; my curiosity still compels me to try. It's perplexing how the long path ahead towards this project's completion does not seem daunting to me in the least. On the contrary, each step taken fills me with eagerness that swells with each passing day. Sandalphon, I can hardly wait for our meeting.

In other news, it seems that Lucilius has been on a creative streak as of late, constantly producing stranger lifeforms and releasing them into our stable ecosystems. His motivation more likely stems from a desire to observe the mechanics of natural selection at work, rather than simply wanting to populate the world with new creatures. No matter how many times the process has repeated itself, it still pains me to see ill-adapted species blink out of existence. And yet, equal joy can be had at the discovery of unlikely lifeforms’ perseverance. Filled with equal parts cruelty and wonder, this world truly is a marvel to behold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Lucio/fer's fascination with humans also influences how he made Sandalphon, that he tried to replicate his own understanding of humanity in Sandalphon's design. It certainly didn't make him care more about humans in adulthood, but it sure gave him a very rich and wide range of emotional responses to things (as humans do).


	4. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smalldalphon greets the world.

Sandalphon has emerged from my core much earlier than expected. Typically, due to the unique constitution of primarchs, one would spend years, decades, even centuries at times dormant and formless within our core as an embryo of intertwined light and matter. In order to bypass a disadvantage known to humans in taking their form - which is their conception of precariously premature young - Sandalphon himself was supposed to physically materialise once he has reached the point of maturity akin to that of four to five year old humans. To somehow defy his own design and take form so soon, it seems this child is a precocious and impatient one. While such an inclination may foretell dangers in his future, it can also denote unprecedented potential.

Despite having no mobility and communication skills, some details of my design are already apparent on his features: wavy, dusk-dyed hair; ruby eyes and a pale complexion. Even his fledgling wings have taken form and were flapping weakly to the steady rhythm of his first vocalisations. The sound is indistinguishable from the first cries of human infants, if the presence of wings have not denoted otherwise of their master’s race. Yet, it was probably human instinct that urged his small hands to seek leverage despite there being no danger of falling cradled within my wings; they eventually found it in my fingers. It suddenly felt precarious to handle this tiny and vulnerable a life form when the size disparity between his hand and my own became so strikingly apparent the moment his fingers curled around mine. Almost immediately, his crying ceased. Sandalphon seemed to have detected my presence and found in it solace. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around mine as a drowning man would a lifeline, yet he was already squirming within the cradle of my four wings in search of more warmth. The movement compelled me to fortify the makeshift vessel with my remaining pair of wings in fear of him worming his way over the edge. Sandalphon finally settled for a nest of down and immediately fell asleep curled up within it. 

I must admit to having remained immobile for much longer than necessary in that state, with Sandalphon breathing softly into my feathers. Eventually, I managed to lay him down within the nursery prepared beforehand without waking him up. The place is admittedly not in its prime condition to host Sandalphon due to technically being under construction. The good thing is that necessary remodifications can be made more easily at this point to best facilitate his growth. I should start thinking of a curriculum for his education soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the feeling canon material on the biology of primarchs will screw me over soon enough. But before then, I can dream up the convenient assumption that they mature as humans do until a certain point when they don't. Sandalphon's nursery isn't quite like a human nursery per se, but more a self-contained realm that emulates certain locations of the real world. More on that in later chapters hopefully.


	5. Nightmares

At this stage in his development, Sandalphon spends most of his time asleep to best accommodate his growth. The cradle I had prepared for him went out of commission in a matter of months once he finally gained the instinct and ability to wrap his wings around himself and levitate as he sleeps. There may have been side effects to my effort of making him more physiologically similar to humans. Sometimes, I would find him tormented by unpleasant dreams - shaking and whimpering amidst choked sobs, wings tightly clenched around himself. 

It seems that Sandalphon dislikes darkness, and the earthy colouration of his wings does not help whenever he awakens from nightmares. For a being so defenseless, to be surrounded by more darkness that seems to have spilled beyond one’s eyelids must be a frightening experience. If I ever happen upon the sight, I can at least pry Sandalphon’s wings open and fish him out. He would then only be able go back to sleep cradled in the glow of my own feathers. However, it is impossible for me to be present at all times, and I can only imagine Sandalphon crying himself back to sleep in my absence. The thought plagues me with guilt for having made his wings the way they are. While I cannot alter such fundamental design at this stage, there must be some other, less intrusive solution to his sleep problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My undergrad thesis has been sucking the life out of me so writing is going slow, but I love these two too much so I. will. persevere!


	6. Nest

Inspiration struck timely, and it was all thanks to Sandalphon. Having gained some mobility, he has made for himself a small nest of my fallen feathers where he now spends most of his time. The natural illumination of these plumes apparently gives him solace. I thought if this was the case, then perhaps they could be employed to ward off his nightmares. With this hypothesis in mind, I picked out one particularly bright feather from my wing. Stringed onto a silver cord, it made for a becoming accessory, while the silver’s reflectiveness would accentuate its glow. 

Due to his small size, my feather looked clumsily disproportionate as a necklace on Sandalphon as it stretched near the whole length of his torso, but he seemed immediately taken with the object. And while it took some time off my schedule, patient observation had proven my suspicion that the feather indeed does work effectively as a sort of pacifier. It was great relief to see Sandalphon sleeping soundly until the moment his wings unfurled. But the very next one he immediately took to cuddling with the feather instead of waddling to my side as usual. I couldn’t help but felt a puzzling sense of uneasiness welling up inside me, the likes of which I had never experienced before. Was this what they call “loneliness”? While the description felt apt, it made little sense as Sandalphon was technically still right by my side. It’s rather curious how this process of observation and cultivation thus far has not only unearthed discoveries pertaining to Sandalphon, but emotive capabilities that I had never even imagined to lie dormant within myself.


	7. Encounter

I have been careful so as not to neglect my usual duties while caring for Sandalphon, but it seems that my effort is insufficient. Lucilius complained of my divided attention a few weeks ago, demanding that I bring my “personal project” to the labs for him to check on its progress to see why it had managed to make me so unfocused. Though Sandalphon already acquired basic verbal communication and mobility, he’s still much too vulnerable to be brought out of the nursery’s sterilised environment, let alone withstand any sort of experimentation. Fortunately, my concerns did manage to dissuade Lucilius marginally from whatever he had in mind. He instead asked to be brought into the nursery to see Sandalphon for himself. I still had my reservations, but neither adequate reason nor the position to refuse.

Lucilius ended up not even waiting for my guidance nor an invitation. He casually interrupted one of our language lessons, having somehow found the way into the nursery on his own. The rate at which Sandalphon’s expression changed from utter bewilderment, to distress then absolute terror as soon as he detected Lucilius’ presence was remarkable. I had to carry him in my arms for Lucilius to have a good look, otherwise Sandalphon would scurry behind me and do his best to hide himself among my wings. Even after I had formally introduced my creator, Sandalphon did not grow any more at ease. He only became ever more distressed as Lucilius began to poke and prod at him - feeling the texture of his hair and feathers, stretching open his eyelids to scrutinise his red pupils, pinching his cheeks. I pleaded with him to stop when Sandalphon was on the verge of tears and even I was growing uncomfortable. Lucilius complied, but immediately began to throw my way all manners of questions: from Sandalphon’s blueprint, to the materials used to create him, his constitution, diet, education, etc. 

He ended his line of enquiry by nonchalantly suggesting that I dismantle Sandalphon and start over. Sandalphon loudly burst into tears. Lucilius made sure to take his time before finally chuckling and reassuring us that it was a joke. Not a particularly good one then, for I fail to find any amusement in making a child cry. He went on to say that I actually exceeded his expectations: he had been certain that upon his commission, I would make another archangel identical to us in appearance. And yet, it seemed that Sandalphon had turned out to be something of a crystallisation of my personal preferences. 

The word “preference” sent us both into a period of thoughtful silence. By design, it should be impossible for me to have such inclinations. If they do exist within me, then either Lucilius’ design is faulty or I am a flawed product which fails to live up to the title of “Lucilius’ perfect creation”. His suggestion of dismantling Sandalphon, then, was only half-jokingly uttered: This little archangel’s existence is manifestation of our fallibility, _Lucilius’_ fallibility. The knowing but somewhat insidious smile on his face was confirmation that we shared the same thought. It seemed by that point, I had subconsciously tighten my hold on Sandalphon and shielded him from Lucilius’ gaze with one pair of my wings - an act that brought him great amusement. To my relief, however, he decided to let me keep Sandalphon out of curiosity for where our relationship might lead. 

Our conversation then thankfully diverted towards more agreeable topics. Lucilius even provided some useful pointers and textbook recommendations for Sandalphon, which I greatly appreciate. The discussion came to a close with Lucilius suggesting that I eventually let Sandalphon join fellow angels of his age in standardised education. It’s puzzling how the thought had never crossed my mind before, almost as if I had settled for the assumption of keeping Sandalphon under my care and protection indefinitely. Now that the option has been brought up, it demands great consideration.

As Lucilius left, I thanked him for his valuable input and promised to manage my work schedule better from then on. The top of Sandalphon’s head only peeked out from underneath my feathers long after the sound of Lucilius’ footsteps had long dissolved into silence. I spent the next few days reassuring him that there was no unpleasant doppelganger of himself, what he had called a “mean Sandalphon”, roaming his nursery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how it got translated into English, but in the Japanese version of Paradise Lost Belial described Lucifer as being boring because he was 無私無欲 - lacking a sense of self and any personal desire. I made an attempt at encapsulating that term by making "a lack of preference" (or the quality of being impartial) fundamental to Lucifer's design.
> 
> Lucilius is the meanest grandpa ever.


	8. Beyond the crib

I fear the decision to let Sandalphon receive standardised education was a mistake. While he claimed to have no trouble catching up with the curriculum, his enthusiasm towards attending school had evidently dwindled overtime. Questions from me would only result in him shaking his head and forcing a smile along with the reassurance that he was fine and that there was no cause for my concern. The reason for his distress only surfaced when I happened upon Sandalphon cocooning himself with his wings during midday yesterday - when he was supposed to be in class. More disconcertingly, he was holed up in the nursery from which he had already been relocated. Had I not made the decision to come clean out the now defunct space at the time, I would have missed him entirely. 

Sandalphon did not respond to my calling, a behaviour reminiscent of his nightmare-infested periods of sleep shortly after his birth. Just as it was back then, I had to unravel his feathers manually. The sudden intrusion of light seemed to have startled him. Sandalphon’s entire body jolted backwards into a pool of his own shed feathers, plumes sticking straight out in alarm. Aside from his reddened, swollen eyes, the presence of a bruise on his cheek made my heart sank. Sandalphon was too busy biting his lower lip to fight back more tears and thus failed to answer my enquiries on how this had happened. I decided the best course of action was to draw him close and pat his back to at least calm him down, but the act produced the unprecedented effect of liberating all of his restrained sobs. By the time they died down, I had lost all desires to inquire any further. But it did not take long for Sandalphon to start leaking information in the form of innocent but bitter questions of his own.

He asked why the other angel children were so much taller compared to him; why they were already able to fly; and if the banished fallen angels’ wings were really as dark as his own. In addition, Sandalphon also revealed that most of his peers had already been assigned to more specialised classes pertaining to their specific duties for practical training - something that he had had no clue was so fundamental to being an angel. I was taken aback by the realisation that the matter of Sandalphon’s undecided role had completely slipped my mind. While his stunted growth may very well be a result of his premature birth, the colouration of his wings is entirely the fault of my own design. The knowledge of having caused him pain in any manner was immensely disheartening. Sandalphon still has a long way towards full maturity but I had already majorly erred twice in his birth and upbringing: creating him the way he is, and deciding to enroll him for standardised education despite his unique circumstances and constitution. Angels are goal-oriented creatures that can be cruelly calloused to others’ suffering - a tendency more apparent the younger they are. 

I told Sandalphon that there would no longer be any need for him to come back to school if he did not wish to, nor should he feel any sense of obligation towards me in the act. To my surprise, he shook the tears from his eyes, declaring that he wanted to continue school and eventually find some way to deal with the harassment himself. He did not wish to inconvenience me with his education any longer than he already had given my busy schedule. I struggled with the idea of Sandalphon “inconveniencing” me in any way. Having brought him to life, should I not naturally be responsible for his quality of life? Yet I felt it impossible to cause Sandalphon any more heartbreak by denying his wish - one which he had fed with such determination. With much reluctance, I ended up agreeing to let him continue school, but also decided that his private education would resume if any more physical abuse towards him was to come to my knowledge. 

After healing the bruise on Sandalphon’s cheek, I proposed spending the rest of the day in our own private lessons instead of bringing him back to class. It was a good opportunity to give him a tour of the labs anyway. Ever since being relocated, he had only been traveling from his new accommodation straight to school and back. It was great relief to see tension leave Sandalphon, replaced by newfound energy. Only a few minutes went by before he was skipping excitedly around some machinery or animal specimen behind glass panels, seemingly having rediscovered his joy for learning. 

As we passed by Lucilius’ private quarters, I made sure to shield the entrance from Sandalphon’s field of vision with my wings. Ever since his last visit, the thought of bringing Sandalphon anywhere near Lucilius has unnerved me. I find the possibility of him being reminded of the idea to run experiments on him, now that he has grown more mature, disturbing. So while I did have matters of importance to discuss with Lucilius, they would best be saved for some other time. Speaking of important matters, I must also speak with the angels responsible for Sandalphon’s class in regards to his harassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, they've been a great source of motivation! The note on Lucifer's description from last chapter is also very much appreciated (since I can't bring myself to read Paradise Lost again to check for it without dissolving into a pool of angst).


	9. Voluntary solitude

After my meeting with Sandalphon's class’ instructors, the physical abuse seems to have ceased. But due to one reason or another, he still prefers to spend time outside of class alone in his old nursery instead of socialising with other young angels. The small, emptied space quickly became filled with books that Sandalphon had borrowed from the archive or myself. Eventually, the old nursery got to a point of being even more cluttered than it had been while still performing its designated function. And yet, Sandalphon takes solace in the chaos. I am more than pleased that he finds peace in this place, but as the books pile higher, the accumulated dust is bound to become a health hazard. Not to mention that it has become increasingly difficult to locate Sandalphon whenever he reads himself to sleep here. Sometimes my mind would be filled with the dreadful premonition of a day when I forget to dematerialise my wings before entering, knock a few stacks of heavy books over - the disastrous result of which is their crashing down on a sleeping Sandalphon. I will need to get him more bookshelves, a system of organisation in order, or to repurpose the place entirely. Anything to prevent my fear from being realised. 

But before that, I finally made an unsolicited visit to Lucilius’ quarters, though not of my own accord. An urgent request for me to do so from his colleagues arrived before I could arrange any plans myself. He had failed to maintain correspondence with them for well over a week, and any attempts to contact him - even by means of directly knocking on his door - had proven futile. Though it’s not unheard of for Lucilius to lock himself away for weeks on end for intensive work, he had never done so without giving the caretaking angels or collaborating researchers some estimate of his plans. 

I entered his quarters using my own core as a spare “key”. Lucilius had designed the locks so that aside from himself, they would only provide me with access. The sight within was both bewildering and eerily familiar, so much so it momentarily halted my advance. All across the floor scrolls, opened books and scribbled notes laid strewn, entirely obscuring the marble underneath them. A great number of other tomes had been pulled from their shelves and thrown unceremoniously into messy piles. All the great blinds were pulled shut, making the only source of illumination within the room Lucilius’ desk lamp that perpetually burned cold white light casting sharp, towering shadows on the walls. Lucilius himself was not at his desk, which meant he could only be somewhere among this chaos. The situation was mightily reminiscent of my searches for Sandalphon in his old nursery. 

I soon managed to dig him out, unconscious and deathly pale, from under a pile of scrolls that had tumbled on top of him from the top shelves. Astrals can’t die from such causes, but severe starvation or dehydration still renders them lethargic, inefficient and eventually comatose. Having expected this, I came prepared with fluids and instant energy boosters for injection - which I could only give Lucilius after settling him comfortably on his bed. 

By the time I brought some semblance of order back to Lucilius’ quarters, he had already awakened and was sitting upright, calmly remarking on how my wings were sweeping up dust bunnies as I went. Upon entering I had forgotten to dematerialise my wings, which thankfully did not knock anything over. But the bottom pair’s feathers were now tangled in gray fluff and speckled with dust. Despite my protest, he insisted on brushing them out for me, saying that he couldn’t bare his perfect creation looking so unsightly. 

To distract us both from how Lucilius was so obviously struggling I began discussion on his new project. Almost instantaneously the grogginess was shed from his voice as Lucilius flew into a near trance-like state of monologue. It seemed he was struck with the idea to create a new angel that would defy all preconceived notions of what angels should be. One to govern the evolution of knowledge, endowed with the capability to not only lead but also mislead. An angel with chaos imbued in his core, who would indulge the folly of those seeking knowledge for the sake of defying Astral rule. His role would be to lead them, armed with what they perceive to be weapons against their rulers, towards their rightful destruction. 

Lucilius seemed particularly enraptured by his own ideas, even if his permanent scowl betrayed his enthusiasm. After countless hours of hard work, he had even finished the blueprint and was just about to feed it into a new incubator along with the materials required for construction. Had it not been for a misstep in the dark which resulted in a debilitating fall that rendered him unconscious, the new angel would have already taken embryonic form by the time I arrived. 

Lucilius sounded remarkably sullen at this point. Severe fatigue must have affected his usual ability to steer clear of such passionate displays of emotion; it felt almost as if he was upset by the lack of tangible progress with which to show me. I could feel him beginning to absentmindedly drag the bristles opposite to the direction of my feathers’ growth, bringing a few tangled knots of down into existence in the process. I insisted that he leave the rest of the brushing to the caretaking angels, let me handle the construction and get some proper rest himself. Lucilius’ grimace deepened when I tried to push him back down to a lying position. He grumbled out loud that if I had only come to irritate him with nothing to contribute, I should not have bothered at all. And yet, he stumbled out of bed to fish out the blueprint among some scrolls and pushed it into my hands anyway, before plopping back down on the bed with his back facing me. Unsure of how to appropriately respond without upsetting him further, I muttered words of both thanks and apology. Unless my eyes failed me, Lucilius’ shoulders slightly trembled as if laughter caught him by surprise. I’m still puzzled as to what he could have found so amusing, but decided against addressing it. 

Lucilius’ blueprint indeed described an angel that, from disposition to appearance, is indeed… very unique. It matters not that I personally find the design to be unsettling at best, Lucilius’ tampering with an element fraught with risks such as chaos filled me with more unease. Knowing that I would not be supportive of such endeavours was perhaps why he chose not to consult me as usual. Having gone this far into the construction process, it was highly unlikely any amount of persuasion would be able to stop Lucilius now. In my quest to find any possible positives to this exploit, I recalled Lucilius’ story of when he first proposed the idea of evolution and my creation. They were groundbreaking and potentially dangerous ideas in the eyes of Astrals back then as well - delegating so much power to artificial intelligence and relying on self-moderating system, thereby decreasing direct administrative control of the Astrals. And yet such daring excursion turned out to be Lucilius’ pride and joy, as well as the envy of other researchers. There is a chance this project would yield similar outcomes. The best I can do, then, is to be hopeful and have trust in my creator.

Besides, Lucilius could really use another angel working directly under him regardless - one that would provide him with the companionship that he sorely needs. At the sound of him stirring in his sleep, my mind wandered back to memories of Sandalphon curled up in his old nursery, breathing softly into yellowed pages of an opened book among. The difference between them is that Sandalphon has me to count on to not read his way into a coma. If the new angel is not meant to be some formal caretaker, at the very least, he could be a constant enough presence to keep an eye out for Lucilius, lest poor self-preservation leads him into similar situations in the future. With that thought, I began to make some minor additions to the blueprint. After all, Lucilius himself did ask that I bring valuable input to his projects upon visiting, and I can’t possibly imagine increased loyalty and devotion towards their creator can be a bad thing for any creation. 

After feeding the adjusted blueprints and materials into the incubator, I exited Lucilius’ quarters, taking great care so as not to wake him. It only occurred to me once I was a good distance away from his door that we had shared a sudden bout of forgetfulness: I had not address the matter of Sandalphon’s role, while he (possibly due to the influence of fatigue) had completely neglected to inquire my purpose of visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random trivia: Supposedly in Japan the cool white light bulb is overused, even in households and apartments where you're supposed to use warm white instead. Cool white is meant for prisons, hospitals and schools because it is better at keeping people awake and alert. I imagined Faa-san would have that utility in mind while choosing his work light.
> 
> Also, another one or two additional chapters might be in order. I did say this whole thing threatened to drag on for too long :-] /sweats


	10. Wounds

Thanks to one of the instructing angels, it had come to my attention how, despite his unwillingness to socialise, Sandalphon would silently keep watch of his classmates as they departed for the outside world on field trips. Due to safety concerns regarding his stunted growth, he is still not allowed participation in such practical learning experiences. Sandalphon had never voiced any desires, but it soon became apparent how he was troubled by this special treatment. This gave me the idea to change his defunct nursery into a space where he may experience some semblance of the natural world without having to set foot outside the research facilities. Such a self-contained environment capable of maintaining ecosystems would require significant spatial readjustment, aided by some technology, in order to hold all necessary components. It was an ambitious pursuit, but with Lucilius’ help, the garden became a possibility in a matter of months. 

The very day following the nursery’s renovation reaching its completion and Sandalphon being formally introduced to it, he greeted me with scraped elbows. Next came tiny scratches from brambles all over his arms, legs and cheeks; then a bruise on the forehead; then insect bites. Visit after visit, Sandalphon would come to my side covered in fresh wounds - the byproducts of his adventures through the garden. But he was never without a big smile and many stories to tell - seemingly filled to the brim with the sort of innocent enthusiasm that had more frequently been expressed in his younger days. Such unadulterated joy was simply contagious in its effect of drawing tension away from even myself. At first I had been concerned by Sandalphon’s frequency of inadvertently hurting himself, but soon decided it was in fair exchange for his rekindled happiness. Even Sandalphon’s complete stop in frequenting his classes after the garden’s construction is considered worthwhile. Anything would be, if it means he could remain this content always. 

But at some point, Sandalphon’s interest shifted away from objects occupying the ground. While my visits would ritualistically begin with Sandalphon dashing to my side in greeting, there were now times when I found him laid sprawled on the grass, eyes absentmindedly tracing the sluggishly drifting clouds above. Like always, he was reluctant to voice any wants, and it subsequently took me a considerable amount of time to reach the realisation that Sandalphon had yet to experience flight. Reaching for the sky was but another wish within my capacity of granting him, and so I did.

It had been some time since I last carried Sandalphon, but he still felt as light as I remembered. Having made sure his small wings were safely folded against his back and his arms secured around my neck, I propelled us skyward with a sharp knock of one heel to the ground. Sandalphon’s eyes would remain clenched shut throughout our vertical acceleration, only peeking open once we began to glide. Even as a humble emulation of the genuine endless blue, the garden's artificial sky was still impressively vast and streaked with coloured light. But no cloud’s shimmer, not even real ones, could match the brightness of Sandalphon’s expression that even now lingers in my memory. We spent our entire time weaving through the clouds, racing a few birds and finding the tallest treetop. Maybe it was the contagious effect of Sandalphon’s joy at work again, but for the very first time, I felt granted a taste of what one might call freedom. One that was fleeting and short-lived as a mortal’s dream perhaps, but that single burst of momentarily bliss easily outshone every single other within my monotonous, lengthy existence. I fear that precious slice of solace is now held too close to my heart, as it even prompted me to venture the thought that it would be ideal if things could remain this way forever.

I was thus nothing short of astonished when that same valuable experience came to bring about disaster. Paperwork with Lucilius was interrupted by an emergency call made from Sandalphon’s nursery. When I rushed over, his condition had stabilised to some degree, but Sandalphon was still experiencing blood loss and gripped by fever. It seemed he had attempted a jump from one of the higher branches within the garden, perhaps in an attempt at flying, and came crashing into the ground. The result was mild bone fractures and the shafts of some blood feathers in his wings breaking open. Like birds, young angels’ flight feathers are nourished by blood being pumped into their hollow shafts, but such immaturity also means the protective shafts themselves are precariously brittle. If they are broken, the fledgling angel risks perishing from bleeding out through their feathers’ shafts. Once the feathers were removed and his fractures mended, Sandalphon was no longer in immediate danger, but his fever needed time to dissipate. I sat there by his side for hours, wracked by guilt and confusion. As I still am. 

Similar to the matter of Sandalphon’s schooling which had amounted to distressing consequences, this was another variable in which my choice did him more harm than good. And yet, I struggled to think of what I could’ve done differently, what would’ve ensured the greatest amount of safety and happiness for Sandalphon. So far, it feels almost as if the two desired outcomes cannot simultaneously be achieved. By this point, Sandalphon has regained full health, but not before I took the opportunity to wipe the traumatic experience from his memory. Even this, I wonder if it was the right thing to have done. 

First and foremost, the next step should be to remove all plants species from the garden which may surpass a designated height in their growth to eliminate future recurrences. High, rocky places may also be flattened, lest they as well serve as launching platforms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bullshit angel biology for your enjoyment \o/


	11. Retribution

I was far from prepared for such a bitter farewell. Perhaps, there is much irony in how I have always been fearful of the ways my actions might harm Sandalphon in his upbringing, and yet it came to be that my inaction has caused him far more pain. Some part of me seemed to have accompanied him into Pandemonium, leaving behind the inexplicable aching of a phantom limb. 

Everytime I close my eyes, Sandalphon’s face as he looked upon me from the opposite side of the battlefield - an expression now bitterly seared into my memory - comes bubbling to the surface. I fervently wish it had all been a terrible dream: the seething contempt in his eyes, anguish, soon overtaken by raw _fear_. All were foreign emotions that seemed almost alien on his innocent face, but could likely have been the result of my inattentiveness. I had neglected Sandalphon to the degree of failing to recognise these toxic feelings taking roots deep within his heart. Being _feared_ by him, most of all, left a bitter taste in my mouth that has yet to fade. I was supposed to be his guardian, responsible for his happiness, and yet, I had caused him to wear those eyes bearing the same disdain for me as those of my enemies. 

Even if banishing him to that dreadful place was the only way to save him from the wrath of the Astrals, to Sandalphon it might very well have been my ultimate act of betrayal towards him disguised as something done in his supposed interest. The prospect has haunted my dreams ever since the day of his trial - how he might be tortured in Pandemonium for my mistakes. In the end, we were never even given the chance to exchange farewells, nor did I manage to pay him overdue apologies. And now it’s already too late, no matter how earnestly I pray for his forgiveness, his sentence dictates that we shall never see each other again. 

I had only wish for our peaceful days to continue forever, but if my selfish desires had yielded so much disturbance to those around me, perhaps I was never meant to harbour any wishes at all. Perhaps I was never meant to invest, to _feel_ any of this. Desires and attachment are luxuries that ought to be enjoyed only by mortal beings. If I pour all my strength into fulfilling my designated functions from now on, hopefully this discomfort will fade with time. It may take years, decades, centuries, millennia,... but with time, and maybe a small miracle, I might be cured of this pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly getting over my writer's block for this, many apologies for the late update orz


	12. Funeral

Some of my fondest early memories of Lucilius was during my fledgling days, when I was even younger than Sandalphon when he entered formal education. My bottom pair of wings had not even sprouted then. Lucilius complained often, but he would voluntarily carry me in his arms as we made our way through the labs. I had trouble keeping up with him on foot, and my four wings were not yet capable of supporting my body-weight. Back then, I had only thought of it as a necessity, but perhaps Lucilius did find some joy in parading around what he deemed his “ultimate creation”.

Alstroemerias were the first fruits of my training designed by Lucilius himself - one of the very first species we conceived in collaboration. I still recall one of his rare instances of affectionate display that ensued. It was a pat on the head accompanied by a pleased smile. In retrospect, perhaps that pride was more directed at himself for his own success in educating me. But a young me had foolishly reciprocated it with utter devotion and affection. 

He was my entire world, my mentor, my guardian, my _friend_ \- as per the title he had made me use to address him; my **god**. Everything I knew back then could only hope to reach near the edges of his wisdom. And as that young, misguided angel, my single, most earnest wish was to grow strong enough so I may shield my beloved creator from any harm that would come his way. I wonder when all of that changed; when I grew from being an extension of Lucilius’ godlike power to extending beyond his influence. Like Sandalphon, my farewell with him came just as bitter: this arm that had vowed to be his shield becoming the very thing to take away his life. Another testament to the cursed nature of my attachment to anyone, perhaps. 

Lucilius’ instructions for his funeral were particular in their specificity. He seemed to have had anticipated his own death. Alstroemerias were his flower of choice for the ceremony. They lined his casket - garishly bright in colour and unfitting of a funeral’s solemn atmosphere, made even more prominent juxtaposed against Lucilius’ paleness. As expected of him, Lucilius was rebellious even in death. But that choice could also have been his final act of vengeance against me; his way of mocking everything I had deemed good and sacred in our relationship. I would be lying to say such a deliberate effort to hurt from him was not effective.

I still don’t fully understand what motivated me to strike him down with such spontaneity. Anger? My programming as evolution’s chaperon dictating that I prioritise the safety of the skies above my own creator’s life? My design seems to be fundamentally flawed, despite Lucilius’ claims. Just as _he_ is flawed. As was our relationship, as is this system, this empire,... If so then what is right? What should our purpose as angels be, if not to serve our makers? If Lucilius were alive, he would be the one to answer my questions. His determination and constant awareness of exactly what to do spared me any cognitive dissonance, doubts or turmoil that might have prohibited me from doing as instructed. But he’s no longer alive. I am lost.

Nothing left remains rightfully of my concerns, nothing but my designated task of overseeing the skies and ensuring evolution’s safe progress, that is. If so, there is little else to do but devote myself entirely to that role, even if it has come to be void of sound reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meanings associated with alstroemerias (aka Peruvian lilies) include friendship and devotion. They're quite festively coloured and are most fit for celebrations. 
> 
> I'm entirely convinced Lucifer knew of depression, even if he doesn't have the cute insomniac eye bags that Sandalphon does to prove of his own mental instability \o/


	13. Letter

To Sandalphon,

Two thousand years have allowed me ample time for careful reflection over the fault between us. I have also accumulated a great many thoughts that I wish relay to you in person. But as you spend your days sealed in this cocoon, I’m afraid they shall remain unvoiced in the foreseeable future. Therefore, I have decided to put what I can here, in the hopes of one day being able to convey them to you, face to face, with utmost coherence.

I dare not implore your forgiveness, for the mistakes I have made are multitude. Instead, as bleak as the present may seem, I wish to propose the prospect of a hopeful future for us all. It may be selfish of me to speak of hope while you slumber in another prison of my making, but simply being able to see you again, despite our bitter circumstances, has granted me the smallest sliver of courage. Enough to even venture a ray of optimism for the time to come.

The four elemental primarchs have taken in successors of their own in your absence, and I have learned a great deal from observing their mentorship. 

Michael and her Shiva spend the majority of their time together sparring. The spectacle puzzled me at first, for in order to be recognised by her, had he not already been required to prove his strength? But it seems the purpose of battle is not restricted to the demonstration of might for them. It is how they communicate, study one another, and learn together how to attack not only with force, but finesse. Watching them, I could not help but regret not having similar experiences with you: teaching you how to fight properly, how to self-defend. This was a great oversight on my part, born of the complacency that I would be able to provide all the protection you may need. I now see how this has resulted in you lashing out, not knowing when to hold your punches when it matters. I’m sorry for having made you see this world as incapable of compassion, as a place of mere survival. 

Gabriel always has full knowledge of Europa’s concerns and vice versa, for they converse constantly when together. Envy is an ugly emotion, yet I must confess to feeling that way towards the proximity they share. Another countless times, I have admired Gabriel for her acute sensitivity and fearlessness in approaching matters of the heart. Were I blessed with her unique ability, it might have been possible for me to extinguish the feelings of inadequacy and pain that took root within you before they shut off your heart. Once these turbulent torrents of history have come to pass, and you emerge after a deserving period of healing, I promise to do better. We will finally be equals, and I will put in my best effort to share our joys and sorrows as such.

Uriel might not look like it to you but the culinary arts are a great passion of his, one that he eagerly experiences with Alexiel. He seems to take pleasure in having her help with making and consuming the food, despite her fruitless reminders towards him that primals do not need to eat. But Alexiel’s complaints often contradict her positive reactions to Uriel’s cooking. In any case, they do seem to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. It made me wonder why the only consumable we ever shared was coffee, though admittedly it is a delightful beverage. I recently requested Uriel to teach me a few dishes, after which I found out it was much more difficult than any impression his practiced movements may give. But I will train diligently, in anticipation of being able to cook for you someday.

Raphael is not the type to complain but even he would admit, occasionally and between us alone, that Grimnir can be tiresome company. Prodigious in potential as he may be, the clash between the personality of Raphael’s successor and his own is astonishing. It is then of great relief that their relationship is held together by a common love for literature. Getting Grimnir new books, particularly novels authored by skydwellers, is the most effective way to get him to stay quiet, according to Raphael. On a good day, Raphael would even venture discussing literature with him, if only for a short period before their conversation devolves into Grimnir’s monologuing. I have overheard some of these tales - fantastical adventures and dramatic stories that vastly differ from the technical books familiar to us both. Fiction or not, one simply could not help but be filled with a curious sense of hope as they follow these thrilling accounts. Once you awaken, I would love to read books of this nature together and have you experience this feeling for yourself.

Two millennia have amassed in my records so many more things I wish we could have done together, hope that we will be able to do together; many experiences that could have been shared and can be shared. But with the recent calamity, history seems to have taken an unfortunate turn: one hostile to a future where such small pleasures of existence may be savoured by your side. And yet, like the heroes of the skydwellers’ stories, I shall bet on the most desirable yet unlikely possibility among the countless. Or as they put it - “to have hope for a happy ending”. 

Even so, if it comes to be that my disappearance precedes your awakening, please keep in mind these following words. Your design was imbued with potential for boundless good as it was limitless evil, as was my understanding of humanity. No matter which you pursue, please do so with the vivacity of every fibre in your being, do it so you will not regret, for that is how skydwellers have lived. Your birth was desired and of no mistake, regardless of who or what tries to suggest that your existence is meaningless. Your presence alone brought me more joy and solace than I have ever known through my many millennia of existence, and for that, I am forever thankful. Thank you for being born, and I may never be able to apologise enough for cursing you with but a semblance of what _life_ is truly like. 

That being said, I will continue to hold out this hope, this selfish _wish_ for our reunion. Have no fear as you are reborn into this world, with or without my presence, as it is much more kind than you have known. There are those who will be the winds to lift your wings as I was not. With any luck, I hope you will come to love this world as I do.

Good night for now, Sandalphon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a century of hiatus, I finally found the right mindset to finish this off.
> 
> Thank for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a twitter @vanishingapples! Come yell at me if you feel like!!


End file.
